Author: proffesonalwritersoontobe

I am currently a junior attending SUNY Cortland. I am a professional writing major with a minor in computer applications. My interest is editing and I would like to become an editor for a publishing company in the future.

Kylie Jenner on the left and Amandla Stenberg on the right. Kylie posted an Instagram photo with the caption “I woke up like this” with this hairstyle (Cornrows). Amandla commented on Kylie’s post stating that she did not wake up like that and needs to give recognition to the black culture since this style is prominently used within the Black community. The argument between two teens sparked much controversy on the double standard of beauty between whites and blacks. If a black person is rocking this natural hair style than they’re considered ghetto, low class, and uneducated. If a white person rocks this hair style they’re considered earthy, well rounded, and unique. See the difference?

With the proper knowledge, a black woman can rewire her brain and push out the negative false statements that our hair is not beautiful nor manageable.After I cut the remaining ends of my hair I began to learn how to moisturize and style my hair the right way. I’ve also worn protective styles in order for my hair to grow.

Perms, relaxers, whatever you want to call it is deadly. Well it’s deadly for your scalp. In the African American community the term “relaxer” is generally a cream or lotion that chemically straightens rough, curly, and kinky hair textures permanently or temporarily.

I honestly don’t remember when I first had a relaxer place onto my scalp, but I do remember the excruciating torture session that I had to go through. I remember my mom placing petroleum jelly all over my forehead, behind my ears, behind my neck and onto the roots of my hair. I know now that the petroleum jelly was used in order to help protect my skin from severe damages, but back then I didn’t know what was going on. At first the cream felt nice and cool and it had a strong chemical smell; 45 minutes into the process my scalp began to burn. It felt as though someone had poured gasoline onto my head and lit a match which set my head on fire. It was the most intense pain I have ever felt in my premature years. Soon enough my mom washed the chemicals out of my hair and blow dried it. My rough and coiled hair transformed into a smooth, thin, and slickly texture. I couldn’t believe my eyes, it was as thought a wizard came and placed a magic spell onto me. The end result were more important than the torture session and from then on I was hooked.

It wasn’t until my sophomore year at SUNY Cortland that I decided to challenge myself to see how long I can go without chemically straightening my hair. What went from three months eventually turned into six months and eventually a full year. This pass summer I finally cut the ends of my hair (The roots were natural but the ends were still chemically affected). After cutting my hair I felt like a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders. I quickly learned to not only take care of my natural hair, but I also found acceptance within myself and my own skin. African American hair and culture is just as beautiful as any other ethic background. I made a promise to myself to love what is on my head and not to define my beauty based on European standards.